


Sehnsucht

by Caelys



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: ??????, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Give me a break, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, friends to something, i still haven't figured out the ending yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelys/pseuds/Caelys
Summary: Sehnsucht (German, noun): word representing thoughts and feelings about all facets of life that are unfinished or imperfect; sense of incompleteness and imperfection of life.Half a decade had passed since the end of the Great war. Many wounds didn’t heal. All mistakes had proven fatal. The past was inevitable. The future uncertain. And going back to Birmingham opened a door long locked and forgotten.Who are you when no one is watching?
Relationships: Michael Gray & Original Female Character(s), Michael Gray/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. So You Wanna Start A War

“I don’t care how much you hate the chivalry! I don’t care if you think they’re snobs! I don’t fucking care!”

The whole Shelby clan had been gathered in the gambling house. The very place that for years had been the heart of the business. The beating heart of the family. And it all seemed fitting that that was the place they had been called in.

It was no secret that Tommy’s nerves were getting closer to their breaking point the closer the date of the wedding came. Him and Grace had to organize it all - the wedding itself, the dinner afterwards. And the fact that their families had to spend the day together made them both anxious.

It was obvious that problems would arise, so Tommy took it in his hands to make sure that nothing would get out of line, even though that the wedding was a whole week away.

And standing there, in the middle of the room, he looked like a general giving his last orders before his loyal soldiers would jump into the fight. But in reality the situation was completely contrary - he wanted to avoid the almost inevitable fight at all costs.

“Whatever you do - you will behave. The wedding is in next week and if you do anything that could...” Tommy stopped and closed his eyes. His hands clutching the end of the table he was standing behind.

He didn’t finish the sentence. There was no point in doing so, he knew that his usual threats worked on everyone else except for his family. Instead he changed the approach “We may not be a proper family by their standards, but they shouldn’t know that and I am...”

“What do you want of us, Tommy? To fucking lick their boots and pretend that we didn’t almost died because of scum like them?” John interrupted. 

“No, I am asking you not to break their fucking faces, while they are our guests.”

“All right. All right. It’s just one night. We’ll get through it” Arthur said.

As much as Tommy’s behavior was insulting, he understood his brother had good intent. He himself felt a similar way the weeks leading up to his own wedding. It was stressful and at times he felt like he was losing his mind. And Linda’s family had nothing in similarity with Grace’s. No chivalry. No high end society. And despite that he was as nervous as Tommy was.

“Also...”

That sentence was never finished, as a knock on the door interrupted Tommy’s thought. The others just looked around - the same confused expression was placed on each face.

“Have you told anyone we’ll be here?” Polly asked.

No one was supposed to be on the other side of the door. The gambling shop was closed for the day, so the workers wouldn’t barge in right in the middle of the conversation. Grace wasn’t informed that there was any meeting. She was convinced Tommy was in his office doing paperwork. Officially none of the Shelby’s were there that day.

"Actually, yes”

Tommy went to the front door while the knocking grew louder and more persistent.

“The fuck is going on?”

Tommy didn’t answer, since in a second it all would be clear. A swift turn of the key and the front door was widely open. But from their point of view none of the family was able to see what was going to. They only saw Thomas’s back and the end of the dark coat worn by the stranger.

“I traveled a fucking ocean to get in time for your wedding and you can’t even open the bloody door when I’m knocking”

For as vague as those words were, the voice of the person who spoke was recognized instantly.

“Faye!” Ada practically ran towards the door, pushing her brother out of the way.

And there, caught in a tight embrace was Faye. This was the first time in more than two years she had seen any of the Shelbys.

After two long years and thousands of kilometers apart, Faye was back.

* * *

Just the sight of women and men dressed mostly in black, being surrounded of posh ladies dressed according to the latest fashion and men in red parade uniforms was laughable. Half of them speaking quietly and looking their place. The other making vulgar jokes and laughing louder than most would find acceptable.

Just one glance was enough to tell which people have grown up in the high society. Just one glance was enough to tell that the newcomers were unwanted. They had the money to join the high society, but they lacked the manners.

They lacked everything that the others were teached since birth. The fake smiles the hidden dirty looks. The perfect little lies that spiked every conversation.

And despite their differences, people from the two opposite side of the social ladder were forced to be in one room. To sit on one table. To become one.

This wedding was a living nightmare for Grace’s family.

“I can’t wait for this farce to be over” Lizzie said before taking another sip.

And Faye couldn’t agree more. What started as an almost normal night, quickly shifted it’s direction as alcohol got involved. The tongues got looser. The words got more poignant. And both sides started showing their despise for the other much more openly. The more time that passed, the more likely a fight had become.

But now shortly after midnight, when the official part of the dinner was over, people started to gather in small groups. Some searching for a place get high. Others for a secret place to fuck in. To each their own.

“What happened?”

“Arthur and Michael. That happened.”

Faye raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been gone for more than two years, elaborate please.”

Lizzie sighed “I’ve been seeing this guy for a few months now and all was going great. Until I invited him to be my date tonight.”

“And now he won’t even call you back?” Faye tried to guess.

“And his restaurant blew up last night.”

The venom in Lizzie’s voice was the most tragic thing Faye had heard in a while. “I...”

“Don’t say anything, it’s useless. They think they have the right to mess up our personal lives and they’re right. Even you came back”

Faye ignored the last part of the sentence, she was still way too sober to be willing to talk about herself. “And I almost believed it, when everyone was telling me that Arthur had changed”

He truly seemed different, but the violent streak in his eyes wasn’t gone; just better hidden.

“In this family they only change for the worse.” she took another sip of the now almost empty glass. “Take Michael for instance - in two years he’s gotten just as cruel as the others, if not more”

Michael Gray. The newest addition to the family. The prodigal son, who miraculously found his way back home. And the only face Faye didn’t recognize the moment she stepped inside the gambling house.

“Lizzie, if you may excuse us for a second?” Polly came from behind and interrupted the moment of silence between the two women.

Barely waiting a second for Lizzie to nod, Polly had already taken Faye’s arm and was leading her through the room.

“There are uninvited people at this wedding. Tommy has called you for a reason. What is going on?” she whispered, while a smile was placed perfectly on her lips while she passed the other guests. Another fake mask placed perfectly on her face.

“Let us enjoy the wedding. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Business can wait”

“Not and for Tommy”

Polly couldn’t take no for an answer just as Thomas couldn’t take a break even on his wedding. So Faye gave up and led the way through the corridors, since the hall full of powerful man wasn’t the right place to talk family business.

Corridor after corridor, turn after turn, both women are getting further and further away from the loud music. Faye knew where her assigned room was - exactly on the other side of the mansion, but the problem was that she had no idea how to get there.

She wasn’t used to being in such big houses unaccompanied. And the many similar looking corridors confused her. But after a few minutes of walking in what seemed the right direction she was facing two dead ends one to the right and one to the left. And Faye was pretty sure her room was at the end of one of them.

So she took a wild guess and headed to the right. Faye stepped lightly, the floorboards weren’t making a sound. And because she didn’t want to make additional noises she ever so gently opened the door.

And surprise, surprise it was already occupied. A dark haired woman was kneeling in front of a tiny table, snorting cocaine. But she wasn’t alone, just off to the side was sitting a man. He wasn’t in a clear view from the door, but from the side, it seemed like he was Michael.

And Faye was absolutely sure that Polly would flip if she saw her son doing drugs. So she quickly closed the door as if she saw nothing and put her hand in front of the older woman.

“Shit, wrong room. And thank Goodness, because some drunk girl is sucking off one officer dry. And I’d hate to interrupt them” Faye’s attempt for a joke fell on deaf ears.

Polly was visibly irritated and tired. With every step Faye’s heart sank deep into her chest. It wasn’t often that she and Polly argued and the ghost of their last argument was still haunting her.

And with the sound of the door being closed Polly started talking “The Russians made contact. What do you know about that?”

“Why do you insist I have anything to do with it?”

“Because you’re here for a week now. If you were just a guest, you’d have arrived two days ago - the same time Grace’s family did”

And even though Polly wasn’t directly accusing Faye in anything, she felt ashamed. She couldn’t look the older woman in the eyes. Her fingers were fidgeting the pearl bracelet she wore for the night.

Anything to distract herself from the inevitable next question “You don’t have a return ticket to New York, do you?”

Faye sighed “Tommy asked me to return for a few months and so I am here. That’s it.“ And in that moment Faye caught a glimpse of the exact thing she feared the most - Polly’s disappointment was written all over her face “Please, believe me.”

“Don’t you remember why you went away? Don’t you remember what happened? I thought you left this life behind”

“And I did! I haven’t touched a gun in 2 years!” Faye shouted, her hands high in the air, as if the more she articulated the bigger chance she had of Polly believing her.

“And you’re about to ruin that?”

“AS IF I HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE!”

“Welcome back, I guess”

Polly stormed off the room. The bang of the door echoed in Faye’s head. _Disappointment_. In just a few seconds it seemed like all the trust Polly had put into her was gone. The silence that had taken over the bedroom was suffocating. Terrifying.

Minutes passed and Faye was still sitting on the bed. Her hands buried in her hair. Her limbs felt heavy, as if all the alcohol she drank that night was hitting her at the same time. In that bloody bedroom time didn’t exist, neither did she. A small space in which there were no consequences.

Fuck. It was almost two am. Arthur was gonna be waiting for her in the cellar and she didn’t have the time to pity herself.

Faye grabbed the gun that she placed in the upper drawer just a few hours prior. And with that, she rushed towards the door, but Faye couldn’t help but glance at the mirror hanged on the wall beside her.

Two years later and she hadn’t changed. Her face was the same. Her hair was the same. The scar above her eyebrow was the same.

Everything about her was the same. It didn’t matter that she turned the page. It didn’t matter that she tried to be anyone else but herself. The mirror didn’t lie. She was the same person that she had always been.

“Forgive me Father, for I am about to sin”

* * *

The cellar was cold and empty. Empty wine racks were placed against the wall. The spring night was cold, but the moisture that stone walls kept made the room feel even colder. The music coming from the big hall couldn’t reach this place. But neither the screams of agony could go out.

A perfect room. Cold, empty and distanced from reality.

Faye was sitting on top of a barrel, waiting for a sound or any notice that Arthur was coming. The handgun stood gently in her hand. It’s metal barrel illuminating the faint yellow light.

A cold, but familiar sensation. Faye had forgotten how the weapon touched her skin, but her muscles had not. It was just like the old times, as much as Faye hated that fact. Some things never changed. It wasn’t the first and definitely wasn’t gonna be the last time she stood in the dark waiting to pull the trigger.

Faye jumped down off the barrel the very second she heard noises coming down the stairs. But it was strange, the footsteps felt heavier than they were supposed to, but at the same time definitely not as loud as they were supposed to be. They didn’t belong to two people, Faye was sure.

And in fact she was right - it was just Arthur dragging an unconscious looking man down that stairs.

“I thought this was my job”

“Change of plans. Help me tie him up” Arthur dropped the body as if it was a sack of potatoes, taking the chair that was placed against the wall.

But Faye never got the chance to even look for a rope. It all happened fast, so fucking fast that at first she wasn’t able to register the movement. In one second Arthur was on his legs and in the second he was tangled up with the Russian man, fighting for his life.

Both man grunting and punching wherever they laid their eyes. Arthur’s hands were quickly covered in blood.

In a few seconds Faye truly realized what was going on. Her initial instinct told her to point the gun right at the men. But she didn’t dare to shoot, the risk of accidentally shooting Arthur was too big.

Instead she kicked and stomped the bodies with all her strength, in Faye’s mind it would be easier for Arthur to live with pain in his torso, than a bullet in his head.

Kicking harder and harder each time. Until her beige dress was covered in crimson splatters. Until the man was lying all bloody curled up on the floor.

“For the love of God, don’t shoot!” he begged.

A loud bang made the whole cellar tremble.


	2. A Drink For The Horror That I'm In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of gun shells never goes away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How obvious is it that I fucking hate writing fight scenes? I think very much. Also I’ve been working on this chapter for like 3 weeks now and I’m tired of it. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

Faye was drowning. Boxes, clothes, books and other decorations were surrounding her from all sides. Different pieces of furniture were scattered all across the house. A bed in the upstairs hallway. A desk sitting lonely in the living room.

The cutlery and plates were scattered all across the kitchen, waiting to be put in the correct cupboard. Nothing was in place and Faye was at the edge of losing her mind.

Although three weeks had passed since her return to Birmingham, Faye still hadn’t set in her new home. All her luggage from America had arrived just two days ago now it was contributing to the already preexisting mess.

For the first time Faye realized how many things she truly owned. Dresses she had never put on before. Books that she had bought with the intention to read, but gave up halfway through the 4th chapter. So much useless shit.

And despite that it was obvious that Faye needed help, she rejected it all. She was able to do it all on her own. Or she believed she could. And just like that she ended up having to pull the heaviest desk she had ever seen up the stairs. It was an uneven battle, but she was determined to win it.

And eventually she did. After 27 long minutes the desk was up. Just next to the empty bed frame, taking up half the hallway. The furniture was being kept there, because Faye still wasn’t sure which room was going to be a bedroom and which an office.

And that was a dilemma she never thought she’d have to face. Faye had always wanted a home to herself. She wanted a place that she wouldn’t have to share with 12 different family members. And now she had it, but despised it.

On a first glance this was a perfect house. It was spacey, but not grand. It looked elegant. It was everything Faye dreamed of, when she was a child. But now when she lived there, the house was proven too big. Even thought it was just 2 stories, it was too much. Even the spare bedroom was too much. 

She wanted a house. And so the second Tommy sent her to New York to help with the growing business and she got the right amount of money, that was exactly what she did.

This house was too big for someone living alone. This was a beautiful, but hauntingly empty place.

Faye always wanted a quick way out of her previous life. And now, when she stood among all her belongings, she truly realized how lonely her new life was.

So she was trying to keep busy in every possible way. When she wasn’t in the gambling house, she was rearranging. You can’t think about your life, if you don’t have the time for that.

“Fuck my life”

As Faye was going around the corner to get downstairs and continue unpacking she managed to knock one of the boxes left upstairs for later. A box full of old things she used in New York. And from the top of that fell the one thing she didn’t wanna see ever again. The revolver.

She had buried the gun there just after Tommy’s wedding night. And she hoped it would stay there. In a box. Never to be seen again.

But that was bullshit and she knew it. In New York you can get by unarmed, but Birmingham was no New York. She knew that the gun would be out some day and she wished she was the one to choose the day.

When she was ready to face the consequences of her actions. To face herself.

A liar. A fake. A traitor. A person never able to keep their word. A disappointment to herself and all around her. All those words had one name - Faye Morton.

She promised something to herself years ago and she didn’t keep her word. Like everything else in her life.

_One. Two. One. Two. The clock had ticked exactly 137 times since Arthur and Faye had set foot into the office. And 137 times since silence fell heavy._

_Tommy was sitting in his chair, smoking. Completely unbothered. Faye knew why they were there. Arthur did as well. It was just up to Tommy to start lecturing them. Like fucking children._

_They had fucked up. It was obvious and his silence was just elongating the insufferable._

_“You were supposed to question him! You were supposed to find out who twas the bloody weak link”_

_“He attacked us, Tommy.”_

_He pretended he didn’t hear that “And you did nothing. You blew his brain without asking a single question”_

_“You know that shit never goes according to plan”_

_“Yes, and this was the only chance we’ll have in a long to find how the soviets know!”_

_“Tommy, he would have eaten his own tongue before telling us anything”_

Dread. Faye had just killed a man for the first time in years and it was the wrong thing to do. Another person’s blood on her hands and for what reason. None. All pointless killing for whatever cause.

Now she had everything she thought she wanted in life and she despised it all. She had money. She had power. She had her own home even. And what was the price of all that?

Blood. A lot of fucking blood.

* * *

Faye found herself out again. Locking the front door, and just heading down the main street off of her home. The spring night was chilly, even cold. Even though it was the end of March, the sun was still setting way too early. And now barely 7:30, the sky was a deep shade of blue. The streetlights weren’t on yet. And it was quiet. No rain. Just heavy fog.

Faye was just passing people down the street. Their faces merging into one. She had no idea where she was headed, she just knew she couldn’t stay inside any longer. So Faye ran out in in just her breeches and shirt. No coat. No purse. Just her, the money tucked in her pocket and the little handgun.

The streets and houses around her were familiar, but strange at the same time. She had gone down those streets countless times, she knew the pot holes, the broken windows and the inhabited houses. But it wasn’t like that anymore. A lot had changed. There were so many new faces living here.

Many of the houses were changed, renewed. Since these couple of streets were now considered a part of the better part of town. Even though she was mere minutes of Watery Lane. 

Where to go now? Back to Small Heath and the Garrison or somewhere new? Faye just knew she wanted to go to a bar and get drunk out of her ass. The Garrison was convenient, just a half an hour walk and she’ll be surrounded with familiar faces again. But that wasn’t what she wanted.

People in that place knew her. And in that moment she wanted booze and anonymity. Just like in New York. People there didn’t care who entered a bar. Everyone was too busy drowning their own pain and sorrow to notice anything or anyone. Here if they weren’t observant they could die in a bar fight or another accident before they had finished their drink.

But before Faye was truly able to make up her mind she ended up by a small, dingy bar. And it was far enough from Watery Lane and the Shelbys, but at the same time less than 10 minutes away from her house.

The second she stepped inside the overwhelming smell of cigarettes and alcohol hit her in the face. The place was full. Men and women were talking loudly, some were singing some old songs. This place was full of life.

Faye headed straight towards the bar, where stood the only empty chairs. The old bartender looked annoyed with life, it was obvious he wanted to be anywhere else but there. When Faye asked for a bottle of whiskey he didn’t even look in her direction. Instead he continued to talk to the man sitting a few stools away from Faye.

“I said, I want a bottle of whiskey!” Faye repeated. This time she was sure he heard her.

“We don’t serve unaccompanied women here!” the man spat on the floor.

Faye sighed. Some things never changed. But she wasn’t about to walk out of that door without a drink. She reached into her pocket and pulled out 100 pounds.

“I want whiskey, you want money. Let’s help each other?” In her hand stood his entire week salary. Just from one client. And so he gave up on his rules quite easily. No questions asked.

No questions asked. Just the way Faye liked it.

One glass down. Then another one. The alcohol burning down her throat. Faye didn’t pay much attention to the few men that tried to strike a conversation. And within few sentences they gave up, she was obviously not interested in small talk or a quick fuck.

No one cared about her. She was just another stranger who wanted to get drunk after work - exactly like everyone else there.

“Do you plan to share that?” a man asked while sitting beside her.

Faye turned around ready to curse at the stranger, when she realized - it was no stranger. It was Michael Gray. What the fuck was Michael doing in this hell hole?

“Depends on how nice you ask”

That answer was enough for Michael, with one swift movement of his finger the bartender was notified of his existence. And less than a minute later a glass was placed in front of him.

Without a second question asked he was already pouring the whiskey in his glass.

“So what brings you here?”

“Can’t I want a few hours of cheap booze and fun?” Faye answered the question by asking another question.

She sounded quite harsh, even though that wasn’t her intention. But she was tired and sometimes she couldn’t fully control herself when she felt so detached form herself. Faye wanted anonymity just for the night and she couldn’t get even that. And now when she had spoken to a blinder, she felt as if everyone was aware of her existence.

Her anonymity was gone as well as her desire to return to this bar ever again.

”You pushed away two men in just 30 minutes. I doubt you’re here for the fun” Michael said while downing his first glass.

“And you know how many men I spoke to because?”

“Because I noticed you when I was playing poker back there” he didn’t turn when he pointed at the other side of the bar, where in fact five men were playing cards. “You look like you need a smoke”

Faye let a small laugh “No way in hell. I didn’t start ‘em in France, I wont do it now.”

Michael lit a cigarette for himself “You’ve been to France?”

“Unfortunately”

Faye downed another glass. Half the bottle was now gone, but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to feel or to think. And she was still able to do both. And the awkwardness of her conversation with Michael didn’t help that. They had never spoken eye to eye these few sentences felt so forced.

“Okay enough about me - we have a bottle of whiskey to get through and I don’t need to talk about myself while doing that” Faye was a second before continuing “So tell me, Michael Gray, does Polly know you like to spend your evenings in such a shit hole?”

Michael laughed “You don’t wanna talk about yourself and so the first thing that comes to your mind is my mother”

Faye shrugged, she didn’t really care what they talked about as long as it didn’t involve her.

“I don’t need to tell Polly everything I do”

“The same way you don’t need to tell her how you rolled in the snow with that girl on Tommy’s wedding?”

Normally Faye would never say that, but the alcohol was getting the best of her. In the matter of seconds Michael’s whole face changed. His expression was no longer relaxed. His jaw was clenched and he looked like a kid who was caught making a mess.

“Relax, your mom saw nothing” Faye laughed

In the meantime the bar started emptying, even though it was still early. But neither of them noticed.

“You’re just as afraid of her as everyone else in your family”

He raised his eyebrows, that comment visibly hurt his ego. “I am not afraid of her”

“Of course you are, that’s how shit works in your family” Another glass was emptied.

“This is for Angel Changretta!”

By the time Faye realized what was happening, it was already too late. The gun was cocked.

Michael was barely able to turn around when the bullet him him and he fell the the floor. For Faye everything was happening painfully slow. Because of the the alcohol her movements were clumsy. She hadn’t even taken the gun out by the time Michael was on the floor.

Faye’s vision was blurry and her head heavy. When she tried to recall what happened the morning after, she couldn’t. It was all a blur from the moment she first started shooting to the moment she realized she was covered in blood.

At first she wasn’t sure whose blood it was. It was all red. She. The body standing below her. The nearest tables were splattered.

All was crimson. Like the first spring sunset.

It was supposed to be his heart. It was supposed to be a quick, easy death. Painless even. A bullet through the heart and it all would be over. But it wasn’t. The bullet went somewhere down. Right through the stomach.

Then another one. And another. Until he stopped moving. Until he stopped breathing.

_I’m sorry_

“Please tell me you’re alive” Faye was kneeling beside Michael. He nodded before she managed to check for a pulse.

Honestly he wasn’t looking all that bad, Faye had seen way worse. Even though his shirt was covered in blood, she wasn’t all that worried about the bullet. By the looks of it it had gone through his shoulder and if she acted quick it wasn’t gonna be deadly.

But Faye was worried about the obvious shock Michael was in. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes looked as if they were gonna pop right out.

“I need you to get up.” Faye helped him stood. Michael was heavier then he seemed. Holding him tight, she made her way towards the exit. “I’m taking you to my house and I’ll take care for the wound. It’s not far. All right?”

He didn’t answer. Faye was cursing herself during the entire walk. She shouldn’t have gotten that drunk. She should have known have known something was up. She should have noticed how the bar emptied. But she didn’t.

And now she was supposed to take care for Michael while battling her own drunken head. Every single step towards her home was a battle. Michael was heavy, she couldn’t walk straight. And on top of that she felt like vomiting.

Eventually they reached the house and Faye was exhausted. She was frantically trying to lock the door behind her. Her fingers shaking so much that the key couldn’t find the lock. Eventually it did.

“Sit on the couch and take off your shirt!”

The worst part had just begun. She left Michael downstairs, while she wobbly got up to search for her old med kit. It was supposed to be in one of the boxes. It wasn’t in the first one. Neither in the second. Ten minutes later after a lot of cursing and desperation, Faye returned downstairs.

When she entered the living room she found Michael lying shirtless on the couch, the blood covering his entire chest. His eyes were closed. “Fuck! Michael, wake up. You’re not gonna pass out on me!”

“I’m awake” his voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

“Good, now open your eyes and listen to me” Faye was talking while lighting up the fireplace “You’re not terribly injured, but you’re bleeding out. Your adrenaline is probably worn out by out, so it will hurt. A lot”

Everything she needed was scattered on the tiny table in front of her “Scream, shout. Do whatever you want, just don’t pass out. I can’t give you painkillers because of the blood loss and all the alcohol you drank. I am sorry”

Faye was speaking fast, trying control her movements to the best of her ability. She put the alcohol dampened cotton ball directly on the open wound. It took a few seconds for Michael’s body to become aware of the ungodly pain it was in.

At first he tried his best not to scream. And he was mildly successful. By the time Faye had cleaned the wound he was still holding good, but the second Faye made an attempt to get the bullet out of his shoulder, ungodly screams left his mouth.

It had been a while, since Faye had heard a young man scream in such a pain. Five years to be exact. Soon it was all over. The bullet was out, the wounds were cleaned. The worst had passed.

Both of them were exhausted. It was 2 am when the make shift operation was over. Faye had collapsed on the rug. Michael still hadn’t moved from the couch. His breathing was heavy, but he was no longer in shock.

“Faye?”

”Yes?”

Faye never learned what Michael was about to say, since he had already passed out due to the exhaustion. When he woke up the next morning, he was covered with a thick blanket and Faye was curled up on the armchair still fast asleep.


	3. Chapagne Supernova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights are best spend in the comfort of someone else’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few months back I started writing again because one idea didn't seem to get out of my mind. And that idea was Sehnsucht. Back then I tried to write some chapters and layout the story, now I'm putting the story to the full. This is one of those first chapters that I have now rewritten. Hope you enjoy. I always love hearing back from you.

The light in the living room was already on when Faye came home. She knew that it could be just one person, judging by the familiar coat that was left beside the door. But to be honest, she didn’t even need to see it to know who it was. He was the only one who payed her such frequent surprise visits.

“I’m beginning to regret I ever gave you a key!” Faye shouted as she was getting her shoes off. She knew damn well that he was able to hear her.

“Too late now, I’m not giving it back”

“Michael, do you even remember the reason why I gave it to you?” he didn’t even bother to look up from the book he was reading. The book that she was trying to read for the past month, but that mysteriously disappeared after one of his visits. “I gave you the key, so when there is an emergency, you’d be able to contact me immediately.”

“But there is an emergency! You have one hour to get ready - we’re going to have dinner”

This is not an emergency, Faye thought. That is not a fucking emergency! In less than a second Faye’s mind tried to come up with a solution how to get rid of Michael, but deep down she knew well that he wasn’t going anywhere. Michael was a stubborn ass and he had already set his mind. So Faye gave up the fight quicker than either of them expected “All right, just tell me what should I wear?”

“Something fancy. Something very fancy”

One hour later Faye learned why she was supposed to be all dolled up. The restaurant where Michael took her was gorgeous. Bigger and brighter than any other place in Birmingham. If she didn’t know where they were she wouldn’t have ever guessed. This place didn’t belong to this city. And the people who were already there knew it. She instantly recognized some of the faces. The ex-mayor and his wife. A few local politicians, who had done previous work with the Peaky Blinders.

This was a place reserved for the high class and Faye couldn’t help but feel out of place. Her clothes matched the surroundings, but at heart she was still lower than them. And no amount of make up was able to hide that. On the other hand Michael was moving with such an ease. He looked and acted the part as if he had always been a part of this society. He had become a perfect fake.

Soon enough the food was served and a full glass of red wine was standing in front of both of them. Faye couldn’t help but notice the remarkable recovery Michael had made. His left side was no longer tense. He didn’t look in pain every time he had to move his arm. He was looking good.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you drink something that isn’t whiskey” Faye only half joked.

“What can I say - this is a special occasion”

“And how have I deserved such a special treatment?”

“By not letting me die that one time”

Faye laughed at the answer. She was still amused by the weirdly honest things Michael was saying. “I’ve saved many people and this is the first dinner I’ve been taken to afterwards. So that’s definitely a nice change”

“All right, can you finally tell me how the fuck did you end up in France, because if my math is correct you’re just a few years older and there is no way they have let a kid go to war”

For a while they have been dancing around the subject, but Faye had never given him a direct answer. The same way he hadn’t asked directly like he did just then. Of course he was curious, it was obvious from the look on his face when Faye first mentioned France, but at the same time he was in a clear state of disbelief. And honestly if Faye was in his shoes she would have though the same.

“This is a long story. Are you sure you have the time and will to hear it?”

Michael raised his glass “We have a whole night ahead of us. I’m sure it will be enough”

Faye sighed. It was indeed going to be a long night. “Well I come from Scotland from a wealthy family. Or I was supposed to be born into one, until my mother fell pregnant to one of the boys that took care of the horses. You can imagine what a disgrace it was. The scandal of the decade. Understandably my grandparents were ashamed and disappointed that they disowned her. After that whole fiasco, my parents got married...” Faye stopped, she couldn’t continue telling the story when Michael was looking at her with the most confused and laughable expression ever.

“You truly said it’s a long story!”

“Yes and we’re just getting started, so listen. I’m the youngest of five children, and all my brothers are minimum a decade older. By the time I was 12 all of them were already married and their whole families lived with us… Wife, children… So imagine around 15 people living in one small house, because none have the money to move out. And I was supposed to go to school, have good grades all while I had to be babysitting the kids daily.”

“How the fuck did you manage?”

“I didn’t. I was a little brat. Constantly making messes, talking back and just making the lives of everyone a living hell, because I didn’t want to help around. Fortunately my mother was kind and she decided to help me out. She contacted her brother and begged him to take me. They were great and accepted me as their own child, but at the time my grandparents were still alive and still holding grudges, so I wasn’t able to stay there for long. So my uncle contacted the medical school he was working in, and after a big bribe the accepted me.”

“But at the time you’d have been...”

“Yes, my birth certificate was forged so I’d be 3 years older than I actually was”

At that place Faye took a break. She was talking for a while now and with every single word Michael’s expression was getting gradually more confused. “What the actual fuck?” 

“I know. Money can truly buy you everything in life”

“How old are you exactly?”

“28 according to my birth certificate, but in actuality I’m 25″

“All right... You may continue”

“Long story short I had good couple of years, I actually started to like what I was studying and I finished my degree.. but the war was already here… And at the end of 1916 I decided to enlist as a medic on the front… I stayed in France until the very end of the war.”

Michael was silent as he couldn’t believe his ears. In that very moment the five years of age difference between the two felt like a lifetime. In just 25 years that woman had lived more than most people had throughout their entire lives. And although Michael wouldn’t admit it - he felt jealous. Jealous that he wasted so much time of his life doing nothing.

“And then?”

“What else could I do then? I returned home. I admit, I missed it... I missed it all. But it wasn’t the same. Either I had changed too much or my memories were deceiving me for years. Either way I had to leave. And I think you’ve lived through this part of the story yourself?”

“Yeah... I definitely have” Michael wasn’t sure what to say next. How could he describe the place he used to call home with just a few sentences?

“Honestly when I think about it all… It’s strange. I can’t say it was awful, but I’m glad I’m out… Don’t get me wrong I loved my family, but I was suffocated. It was just a boring life in a small boring place… I could never go back” he said all of that almost breathless, the words were tangling in one another.

“Every fucking day was the same as the next. It only made a difference when a kid was born or someone died. My parents had no ambition, no goals. They only cared of we grew up to be good people… Good people…”

Was he choking on those last words or was his voice this raspy the entire night? Faye looked at him. His eyes were looking as if they were made of glass. His posture was tense and defensive. She wanted to say it’s all right, but she didn’t know how so she simply reached out to caress his hand.

“If they could see me now, they would have died… Sounds like a fucking joke” Michael laughed dryly at his own words. “I don’t regret I’m here… I don’t regret anything… Just sometimes… I think about them and how disappointed they would be of me.” He moved his hand, so her fingers were sitting in between his.

“Their judgment doesn’t affect the kind of person you are”

“I know, I just sometimes forget it”

Minutes were passing and the food was forgotten and half eaten. Getting colder and colder with every passing second.

“You know what? Enough about past! It’s already behind us. Now let’s have a toast… Let’s drink for tonight, for the good wine…”

“… And for the good people in our lives” Michael added.

“May the good people in our lives never leave!”

The glasses were raised high. Both of them knew that a lot of things left unsaid, but it was better off this way.

“Thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house.”

“Of course you’d need it. I haven’t seen you go out in weeks. I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t grown roots in that damned house.”

“Well excuse me, the whole ‘move your entire life 10 thousand kilometers away’ takes a bit of time”

“With all the time that it took you to unpack, the time to return there would arrive and you still wouldn’t be done”

And the two of them were back with their usual bickering. No of them taking shit serious. It was exactly what they had gotten used to. And as the conversation was moving away from the more serious tome, Faye actually felt hungry.

“Yeah, no way. I don’t wanna return there.” She answered all while chewing.

“Why? Didn’t the new world live up to your expectations?”

“No, it was lonely. I’m tired of leaving my old life to go somewhere else and do something else. I’m tired of turning the page. I just wanna live the years I have left here and die in peace”

Five years ago Faye wouldn’t believe these words. Five years ago she wouldn’t have said these words. But as time went on, she knew that was exactly what she needed of her life.

“Don’t you have ambitions? Don’t you wanna see the world? Don’t you wanna leave a mark somewhere?” Michael was a megalomaniac. Just like Tommy. He wanted everything that the world had to offer, it didn’t matter the sacrifices. The consequences aren’t important when you’re young and full of life.

“I had ambitions and I saw the world. Now I just wanna rest and finish up my meal”

Michael opened his mouth, but Faye cut him off before he could say anything “Here is the difference between us - I left the suffocating village a long time ago. And I did what I could with my life. You’re still green. You’ve left the village, but you still dream about it sometimes. I am sure.”

Michael didn’t answer. He refused to look at Faye, even though her words were accusatory, he didn’t want to admit to them.

“You feel like you need to go as far away from that place, so you’d be sure you’ve cut all contact from it.”

“I already have. I am a changed man. You didn’t see me two years ago when I came here.”

“Yes, I was already away at that time. But you know, Polly wrote me about you. I can see the difference between Michael she wrote about and Michael, who is sitting in front of me. But you still write to your mother sometimes, don’t you?”

“You terribly remind me of Arthur when he’s drunk” Michael broke the conversation, since it was getting uncomfortably intimate for his taste.

“You may be laughing, but Arthur does say a lot of good things. Unfortunately no one listens to him.”

“Even Linda”

“Especially Linda”

Two hours later the two decided it was time to go. When they headed out, it was already dark. The moon was illuminating the cloudless city of Birmingham. For the first time in a month and a half the sky was clear of the gray smog that usually covered the city. It was a welcomed change.

That night was the first night Faye saw Michael drive. He was the type of driver that never took their eyes off the road. Constantly concentrated, even though the streets were mostly empty. He wasn’t much of a talker. Never initiating conversation and barely mumbling an answer when he was asked something. He looked calm. As if his face was chiseled out in one perfect marble piece.

For Faye the drive felt mere seconds long. She had barely looked at the city lights and it was time to go out. Back in to the cold street. Back home. And yet she didn’t want to leave. The car. The comfortable darkness that surrounded them. Michael.

“I...” She started, although she didn’t know what to say next. _I actually like those unexpected visits... You keep me away from remembering... You can stay the night_. But all those things were left unsaid. “...Thanks”

“Faye?” Michael reached out for her hand. Her fingers were cold, as they always were. He had noticed that, the night when she took out the bullet and it was the same every time she changed the bandages. She was just that cold. “See you tomorrow”

One leg in front of the other. Step by step. She was coming home alone. Faye hadn’t even unlocked the door when something caught her attention. The telephone was ringing. It was 23:47. Way too late for casual chatting with anyone. Way too late for business. And yet the telephone was clearly ringing.

“Yes?...”

On the other line was silent for a few seconds, until the person on the other side of the line was able to mumble “Grace is dead”


	4. Blood On Your Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghosts lied. Arthur didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the rewritten version of the first ever thing I wrote all the way back in April. And I’ve been so fucking emotional working on this. I hope you enjoy!

It was a sea of blackness. The two families were gathered around the dirty hole in the ground. All mourning the loss of Grace Shelby. Gone so early. So young.

Over a hundred people were there, even though Tommy wanted to have a small funeral with just the intermediate family. But word got around... And more and more people came. Some genuinely mourning, and some there just to enjoy of the pain of the Shelbys. Like mockingbirds imitating the sounds of sorrow. For the first time Thomas Shelby was proven human. A deeply wounded shell of the stoic man he used to be.

And even though the two grieving families had become one, it was easy to tell them apart. The hysterical ones. And the quiet stoic ones. Those who were watering the ground with an ocean of tears. And those silently paying their respects. 

Even Tommy, the loyal husband, didn’t shed a tear. He looked distressed. Even broken. But his eyes remained dry. He couldn’t break down in front of so many people.

Even when the casket was closing.

Even when he saw her face for the last time.

Even when the dirt started covering the body of the person he loved.

* * *

John, Faye and Arthur walked into Tommy’s office. This was the first time any of them had seen him since the funeral and it was awkward to say the least. None of them knew what to say, since there was none written etiquette for small talk with someone whose wife had just died.

Faye couldn’t even look at Tommy. She feared what she was going to see. A tired hopeless man? A man ready to destroy himself? Or a person filled with vengeance? 

Arthur was the first to break the silence and it was in the worst possible way – by bringing up the funeral. Yes, there was no proper etiquette, but if there was, he would have broken every single rule. And Tommy wasn’t having any of it. He had called them to talk business, not to discuss his feelings.

“Everything is done!” Arthur started his report “John and I cleared the Italians south. They wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Angel?”

“Faye took care of him. It was easier for her to be let into the hospital than us”

These were the perks of being a ex-doctor in the local hospital. Killing people there was easier. Faye was sure – Hippocrates was turning in his grave because of her.

“What about the old man?”

“He’s with his wife in Liverpool, waiting for the next ship to New York” 

Like the loyal soldier Arthur used to be, he gave just the important information. No useless details. Nothing that will cloud the judgement. 

“Then you pick him up and you bring him to me.”

“But…” 

Defiance. The worst trait a soldier could have. He’s there to kill. Not to think. To follow orders. Not to contradict.

“But you shoot her and bring him to me”

“She was a teacher at our school” John interrupted the conversation. That was the first he had said in the entire meeting. Up until then he was just trying his best not to show his irritation. Tommy saw Michael before them. Tommy showed that his own brothers stood below Polly and Michael. In his eyes they were just attack dogs waiting for a command. Nothing more, nothing less. “She’s a good woman”

“Then she’ll go to heaven.” And with that said Tommy ended the meeting “That’s it. You may go. Faye – you stay”

John didn’t move from his spot. “And after that? What’s next?”

“After that you ask Polly”

“Ask Polly? Not Michel?” John’s voice was completely flat.

“Yes. Michael deals with legitimate business”

“You saw Michael before us” The ultimate betrayal. “You’re your fucking brothers and you’re treating us like toy fucking soldiers”

Arthur and Faye shared a look. “John it’s not the time”

“When is the time? After whose murder would the time come?”

John had a point. None could say otherwise. But Tommy wasn’t there to hear him. He was there just to give out the orders so he’d be free to drown himself in the worst of thoughts. 

He craved solitude and every word that was said was keeping him away from that solitude. Faye already knew John was gonna lose it and shout, then Tommy would follow. And after that John was gonna storm out. His ego hurt. Feeling more and more bitter by the second. 

The thing with the Shelbys was that if you had seen one scandal, you had seen them all. Nothing was new. Nothing. Never.

“Are the books here?” Tommy asked when finally Arthur and John were gone. 

“Everything is in the attic”

“Take them out and count them. All the stocks and documents of sells.” He lit up another cigarette “Is everything legal?”

“Most of it”

“Then bring them to Michael by next Monday. He’ll take care of the legal part”

Faye didn’t need to hear that she was dismissed, to know that she was. Tommy’s tone was clear enough. “You’re sending me back aren’t you?”

“No. I already told you.” Tommy sighed. He was done with the stupid questions, but everyone around his was determined to get on his last nerve “Business here is the priority. I’m sending Ada once everything here is done”

Tommy picked up a huge book conveniently placed at the edge of the messy desk. 

“These are all the received payments. Check them and compare them with your documents. Everything has to look clean. Do what ever with those that aren’t fit - burn them for all I care.”

With that the meeting was over and Faye found herself alone in the grand corridor. Everyone else had already gathered up god knew where. And she had no one to ask since the maids were dismissed for the week and Ada and Polly were trying to take care of the house and Tommy’s declining mental state.

And she genuinely wondered what did Tommy do with all the empty rooms and ghostly spaces. She was going insane living in a house that was one third the size of this mansion, let alone him. Just him and Charlie in such a place. 

Eventually Faye heard some noises coming out of the servant’s quarters. And of course someone was shouting. This fucking family didn’t posses the ability to talk low. 

“... is boss... good words” there were a lot more words said but most of them were unintelligible. A collision of chairs followed. As well as loud gasp.

It was obvious that the problems splitting the family were far from over. Tommy didn’t care. That was clear. And since John and Arthur couldn’t put the blame on him, they found another victim - Michael.

And being honest Faye didn’t have the energy to listen to another family feud. She went past the kitchen and up the stairs. She had every intention to wait for the dispute to be over before she joined the rest. And so she went into the first bedroom that she found. It was tiny, but she couldn’t expect anything else for a room that was made specifically for the servants to use. 

It wasn’t post or beautiful. No expensive wallpaper was on the walls. There were no massive wooden furniture. No oil paintings. And yet it looked more like a home than any other part of the house. 

Faye didn’t realize when she fell asleep. All she could remember was that in one moment she was lying in the bed staring at the cloudy sky and in the next she was woken up by the sound of gunshots.

In less than a few seconds she was up and searching the room for an intruder. None was found. In the meantime it had already gotten dark out, just a few lights coming from the garden illuminating the wall. Faye was safe, still in the comfort of Tommy’s mansion. She stopped to listen - it was way too quiet for an attack. No screaming, no other shots, no signs of fighting back.

Just one lonely shot that tore the night.

And soon enough it became clear what had happened. From her tiny window, Faye had the most perfect view of the garden. The very place that Arthur, John and Michael were. Faye’s heart sunk when she realized that her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Michael really was pointing the gun at John’s head.

He was ready to pull the trigger. But he didn’t, instead he moved to Arthur. That whole scene didn’t last longer than a minute, but for Faye it lasted eternity. The gun was loaded a pointed, ready to take someone’s life. It was just waiting for an order.

But that order never came, since the next one to join that scene was Polly. It was impossible to know for sure what was being said, but she was fuming. Her own son was becoming the very thing she wanted to avoid. 

If broken hearts made a sound, Faye was sure that it was gonna be the hopeless voice of a lost mother.

But Michael didn’t realize that, he was too busy trying to protect his wounded ego. He was never able to win an argument against his mother and now was no exception. He had to retreat and he did. 

With a heavy step he turned and walked away. Leaving Polly and his cousins behind. And soon enough she heard his steps coming up the stairs. It couldn’t be anyone else, since she could recognize these heavy stomps anywhere.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Faye practically dragged Michael into the tiny bedroom. Pure disappointed written all over her face.

“What I do is none of your business!” he spat those word right into her face. His anger from the confrontation with Polly was obvious and Faye was going to fall a victim of it.

“If you wanna play the tough guy, go ahead, I won’t stop you. But what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing pointing a gun at John and Arthur? You could have killed them!” Faye pointed out at the window from which she saw it all go down. From the first shot to Polly’s involvement.

“I want respect and in this family this is how you gain it”

So that was the reason for all of it. _Fucking respect_. And unfortunately Faye was convinced that Michael wasn’t lying. For the two years he had been a blinder he never learned how to lie properly. His face still looked guilty when lies escaped his lips.

“You. Are. Respected.” she said slowly and loudly, emphasizing on each individual word.

“Do you really think that? If this was the case John wouldn’t be angry that Polly and I saw Tommy before him.” Michael stopped for a second, he really didn’t want to have this conversation. Not then and not with her.

“I’ve been here longer than you. Don’t teach me how shit works here. John was angry because that seemed like splitting the family apart”

“Don’t you teach me how my family works.” Faye opened her mouth to contradict, but before she could say anything Michael started shouting “I. AM. Family! You’re just doing my cousin’s dirty work!”

Pain. Confusion. Anger.

In just a few seconds waves of emotions played on her face. Michael knew where to hit for it to hurt. And he did.

And yet Faye pretended she didn’t hear him and continued as if those word were never said out loud “And that’s why I am a bit more experienced. Don’t point a gun unless you actually plan on using it. And you don’t point a gun at someone unless you can handle the fact that you killed a man.”

Michael chucked. A dry empty sound the filled the void around them. “Can you handle the fact that you’ve killed many men? Or you still pretend that you didn’t have a choice in that? Do you like to pretend you’re another victim of the war?”

And with those words Michael crossed the line and Faye wasn’t there to take another hit silently.

“I WAS A FUCKING DOCTOR! I wasn’t supposed to kill enemy soldiers! You don’t know the feeling when you’re given a gun and you’re being told to shoot if you wanna see the fucking morning light. You don’t know how it feel to realize you’re covered in someone else’s blood…”

Faye was so angry that she didn’t feel when the knuckled of her fist had turned white. She couldn’t feel her shacking. Until she just felt herself chocking. The words barely coming out of her throat.

“I couldn’t sleep for days, you know… Do you know how it feels to wish for death every night? Because I do… I spent every fucking night of that damned winter of 1917 wishing for a bullet in my head. Listen to me if you’re serious with what you started down there, this isn’t the fucking way.” 

And Michael looked... bored. He had that unfazed expression that he carried when the only thing he waited for was the conversation to be over.

“What’s the way then?” he asked, but no answer followed “Exactly what I thought. Stop blaming the war for all the shit you’re into. It was five years ago. And now you’re here pitying yourself because you’re volatile and you can’t help but run from all your pr...”

A slap right across the face cut Michael off. “Don’t you ever speak to me in such a matter!”

Faye left the room with no direction in her mind. Just the urge to be away. As far away from him and hid venomous words. She quickly ran down the flight of stairs and into the corridor. Hoping to escape the manor without the notice, but again she was terribly out of luck. Down there stood the whole Shelby clan. Arthur with one sleeve of his coat on. John and Ada looking like children who were caught stealing candy. And Polly having that pitiful look in her eyes. It was obvious they had been there for far too long.

It was uncomfortable. The heavy silence. The things left unsaid. The five of them just standing there, staring at each other. Until Arthur decided that he couldn’t take it anymore and said his goodbyes. Linda was waiting for him at home and he had to go.

“Wait! Can you give me a lift?” that was her chance to go away and Faye took it “I have to… some work to do in the morning”

Normally a good liar, her words were now weak. Obviously forced. She was spitting the first thing that came to her mind and everyone knew it.

“I... Yes, of course. Get in the car”

Nobody tried to stop her. Nobody said a thing. How could they? Just the sight of her trembling hands discouraged them. Not that she would have said anything. She was too proud. They had all seen it before, Faye was going to brush shit away, until it was too heavy to carry. Then she was going to break down.

Silently taking the hit and pretending that she didn’t bled.

With a quick pace Faye went to the car. Her back straightened. Her chin up. Pretending that she didn’t even felt the cold, even though she didn’t have her coat. And with every step Faye took, she felt watched. Deep down she had the feeling that if she turned around, she would see a familiar silhouette on the second story window. And Faye knew that if she turned, his gaze would burn her to the ground. So she didn’t.

Faye didn’t even wave goodbye. She just sat on the passenger seat and waited for the car to move. And in that exact moment Faye shut down. Staring at some spot somewhere in the distance. Barely blinking. One sentence occupying her mind.

 _You’re just doing my cousin’s dirty work!_

The ugly truth. That was her place - at the bottom of the food chain. Mindlessly following orders and ending lives. Playing a merciless God.

Faye had no idea when they took off or how long they had been traveling in silence. The landscape around them were changing, but she was still there - in the dimly lit bedroom. Reliving the conversation. Again. And again. And again.

Until she numbed herself. Until Michael’s voice sounded distant. Until Michael’s voice had turned into her own.

The roar of the engine was filling up the silence. Until Arthur drove through a hole and Faye was quickly brought back to reality. She reached for Artur’s coat, taking the flask out of there. He still carried it in his right pocket. Always full in case of emergency. Linda hadn’t erased this habit. At least not yet.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

The burning sensation in her throat was grounding. Alcohol managed to flow down and reach all the wounds. For a while it was going to heal her. Until the wounds demanded more. But that was a problem for another night. Her first and only care was to get through the night. The morning after didn’t exist.

“Ya heard it all, didn’t you?”

Arthur didn’t even bother to try and lie. Faye already knew the answer. “He’s just curious. That’s it.”

“Arthur, he's a fucking child that want to feel like a God”

“Weren’t we the same?”

“Yes, and look how that turned out for us” The bitterness in Faye’s voice was almost poisonous. The metal was pressed against her lips again. Arthur didn’t react to her words and yet Faye felt guilty. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry...”

“Linda is pregnant. I’m gonna be a father” Arthur confessed. His voice merely above a whisper.

“Congratulations. That’s wonderful” Faye forced a laugh. She really was happy for him, finally his life was getting in order. Piece by piece. “You’re gonna be a great father”

The tiny road was slithering like a snake in the off skirts of Birmingham. The fields were replaced by the first rows of houses. They were back again in the same old place.

“... And we’re going away. After this whole thing is done...” Arthur was gripping the steering wheel with all his strength. “I want this kid to have a better life than I did”

Just by the way those words were said – more like a confession than a happy news. This was the first time Arthur admitted to his plans.

“Faye, find someone. Get married. Get away. You still have time!” Arthur stopped the car in front of her home.

“I can’t and you know it” Faye quickly got out of the car. Another night filled with ghosts was ahead of her. And yet she feared it less than whatever Arthur was going to say next.

The ghosts lied. Arthur didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, you can find me on tumblr. Same username as here. I am posting way more stories there. I'm doing requests and I give updates about this story.


	5. How Could You Cry For Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The circle started in Birmingham and it was gonna end there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is a bit on the shorter side, but after a week long writer’s block it feels good to complete something. Hope you enjoy.

A while had passed since Tommy visited the office for the last time. Nothing had changed there, just the thick layer of dust showed that this room was no longer used. Everything was stuck in time. Nothing moved or changed. In that place Grace was still alive, her picture still on top of Tommy’s desk and she was smiling.

She was happy.

And Tommy didn’t dare to go there yet. Drowning in self-pity was easier for him. It was the faster way out. Painless and yet self-destructive. And so the whole family became a make shit secretary to him. Almost daily someone was coming over to take or leave something.

And only thanks to Michael that office still felt alive. He was the one who opened and closed it every single day. Spending his days in complete solitude. Like a medieval monk studying the Bible. His only company were the numbers and the leather bound books.

And Michael himself was the reason Faye was headed to the office. A heavy pile of books and documents in her hands. Waiting to be handed over to the right hands. Maybe it was childish and petty for her to act like that, but a petty win was still a win. At least in her eyes.

_You’re here pitying yourself because you’re volatile and you can’t help but run from all your problems._

First was Birmingham. The gray and depressing city that hid her from her family and from all the blood that was drowning her past. It was a fresh start. Faye had just rented that dingy, room that didn’t even have a proper heating.

That first winter was hell. Cold. Even freezing. The wind was barging in from every single crack on the window. The money Faye was making as a doctor were barely covering her rent and food. And however bad her situation was, many had it worse. Almost every family in Small Heath was drowning in poverty. The children were the biggest expenses. They often fell ill and when that happened even the 5 pounds that were left and hidden away had to be given.

And Faye couldn’t bring herself to take these last few pounds. So she started giving out the so needed medicine for free. But the winter was long, too long even.

But one shot changed it all. After a few months Faye was almost used to the gang fights, that were a normal thing in this neighbourhood. Almost. And through the gossip and hushed voices she learned who to avoid. The Peaky Blinders.

Everyone knew not to be out in the streets after midnight. Every-fucking-one. A gunshot at 2 in the bloody morning was a call for trouble.

And Faye answered it.

Then came New York. Another blank slate. This time for real. No guns. No illegal activities. Faye even fell in love. For a while. Until it all crashed down. New York was a slap across the face. She was unlovable.

And now she was back at point zero. And Michael was right. Faye ran and ran and ran, until she realized she was in a big fucking circle. And the time had come for it to break.

“It’s not fucking here!” Faye was greeted by John’s voice the second she opened the door. He was kneeling behind Lizzie’s desk at the end of the hallway, desperately looking for something.

“Do you need help?”

“Nope” he didn’t bother to look up “Tommy sent us to bring him some documents, but I guess they aren’t here”

“Fucking hell! We’re not going to find it” Arthur got out of Tommy’s office. He was obviously getting irritated. Not only he hated being at the office, but he had to search for something that wasn’t really there.

“And you didn’t ask Lizzie for help, because?”

“Because family matters"

“Of course” Everything was a family matter to the Shelbys. The question was which part of the family it concerned this time.

Before Faye had too much time to overthink John’s words, Arthur chimed in “Are you coming with us to the Garrison later?”

“I… I really don’t know”

_The._

“Faye, it’s a celebration. You have to come!”

_Circle._

“I just have to finish some work before I join you.”

_Ended._

“That thing?” John pointed at the pile she was carrying.

_Today._

“No, that’s not for me. Is Michael still here?”

Even before Faye saw John nodding, she was headed towards the glass door that separated Michael’s office for the hallway.

The faint yellow tint of the small lamp was the only light source in the entire office. Through the covered windows the last sun rays were making their way in. The day was almost gone, but Michael continued his work. Faye had learned that he couldn’t stand noises that could distract him. Sometimes even the voices coming from the outside were bothering him. That was the reason he usually worked with the windows and door closed.

His whole desk was a mess. Letters, pages and books were scattered all over the place. His fountain pen was leaking, creating a small inky pond on top of a piece of paper. Michael didn’t even notice that, because he was way too preoccupied with finishing his 6th cigarette for the hour. Faye noted long ago that he was a chainsmoker when nervous; the ashtray full of cigarette butts and ashes.

If he noticed her and simply didn’t bother to say anything or if he was too concentrated to realize that somebody had entered remained unknown. With him it was never clear if he was angry or just lost inside his own head. But Faye had no time to waste and after she knocked on the door frame Michael finally graced with a look. “Yes?”

“I’m bringing the documents... Tommy must have told you about them" Faye was still standing next to the door. Being honest she wished to keep as much of a distance between them as possible, and yet he had other plans. Without saying another word Michael got up his chair and headed towards her. Quickly taking the pile of documents from her hands.

He glanced through a few pages, barely looking at the words and numbers. After flipping through the fifth page his expression quickly changed. “This isn’t what Tommy told me about”

“I know. Change of plans.” Suddenly the weight on Faye’s shoulders was gone. “Here is every expense that you need to compare to the payments you’ve received in here. My entire two-year stay is documented in here, so I doubt you’ll have any problems going through every page”

Michael blinked, slowly exhaling the smoke.

“No. I’m here to check onto your reckonings and make sure to clean up any mistakes. I’m not here to count all your shit”

“Remind me again of your position - Head of accounting. You’re literally being paid to count.” Faye stopped for a second “And I’m being paid to kill. Know your place as I know mine”

“I’m not doing any of this”

“Oh, not only you’re doing it, but you have 3 days for that. Tommy wants them by Monday”

The sly smile on Faye’s lips was something that made Michael’s blood boil. “Son of a...”

“Mind your tongue” In that moment Faye became the second person ever, after Pol, who managed to shut Michael up with a single sentence. “If that’s all, I’ve got work to do and I think you do too”

“Fuck” that muffled plead coming from Michael’s office was the last thing Faye heard before she exited the whole building. A petty win truly was a win.

“What’s the matter young boss?” Arthur checked up on Michael. Both brothers had hanged out in the office just a little longer than needed, just in case something happened and they needed to break down a fight.

Michael was back on his desk. His fingers buried deep in his hair. Just standing there with his eye closed, trying to process how much work he had exactly “She just dumped me two fucking years of accounting records and I have 3 fucking days to make them presentable to Tommy”

“Yer fucked, mate” John laughed. Being honest he had a great time watching all of this unfold. For once there was some stupid pointless shit that didn’t involve him or his decisions. And God, was it entertaining.

“You don’t need to remind me”

“Have you fucked yet?”

It took Michael a few seconds to process the question. One. He stopped moving. Two. His eyes were wide open. Three. His expression was stuck somewhere between confusion and pure embarrassment. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, a lot of problems resolve with a quick fuck” A

“And that’s why you have six fucking kids, John”

“Six kids, but a happy marriage”

“Go and apologize, Michael” Arthur interrupted the banter between the two. However amusing that was, the situation was actually more serious than what ‘a quick fuck’ would solve.

“You know...”

“I don’t fucking care what you think I know. Apologize because you’re fucking lucky that Faye was the only one in that room. A slap is the least you could have gotten out with”

* * *

The streets were full. As the last light of the setting sun was shining softly on the dirty windows, all the factory workers were coming home. Countless of people with tired faces.

Despair. Hunger.

This was the life in Small Heath.

You’re born here.

You live here.

You.

Die.

Here.

Like a spider webs, the fog and smog kept every single inhabitant captive. Until their last breath. Then the fog got inside their lungs one last time and never went away. Even in their death, no one truly escaped Small Heath.

But however bad things still were, it was infinitely better than 1919. Half the kids that were running away in the streets now, were lucky they were alive. Five years ago there were so many little graves around the town that it was a miracle if a family hadn’t lost a child. If famine didn’t wipe them out, it was going to be the diseases.

Food and medicine were never enough. Not and after such a devastating war.

That was in the past now. This circle had ended. The war was in the past. It was time for Faye to break another cycle.

The letter in her pocket was the toughest thing she ever had the displeasure to write.

_~~Your son didn’t deserve~~ _

Word after word.

_~~I will always regret what~~ _

Draft after draft.

_~~Here are 5000 US dollars~~ _

It all went to the rubbish.

However honest her words were, they would never be enough. A grieving mother would never accept a simple ‘I’m sorry’. It’s simply insulting. Sorry not only didn’t fix things, but was also adding salt into the wound. So Faye wrote nothing.

Just a lot of money in an envelope. That way the chances the family would accept them were bigger she thought.

And as she was standing in front of that old door, she felt nothing. Just resentment. This was the most disguising thing she had ever done. Exchanging money for life. Just like Thomas had showed her it’s done.

That was his way of closing a cycle. And now that was also Faye’s way.

Was she supposed to feel better after she slid the envelope under the door? Was she supposed to feel accomplished? Satisfied? Was the gaping hole in her chest supposed to disappear? Or maybe this was her way to stroke her ego?

Another great lie that was supposed to choke her consciousness. With every single step she took Faye felt even more miserable.

She had sins to cleanse. And yet her make shit confession she felt even more dirty. Now the Garrison was waiting for her to drown her guilt in alcohol. After all even at the fucking church they had wine.


	6. Heaven Is A Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moved on, but nothing changed.

Flames. Slithering red tongues. Eating. Digesting.

First were the shirt and coat. Then they traveled up the neck. In a mere second the smile was gone. It never existed. Now these lips were only in her memories. The brightest eyes were now dimmed.

Another picture. The kiss was no more. The building crumbled down in a moment. Faye still remembered that day as she had never been happier. Edward was still beside her. It was one of those days that nothing happened and yet she remembered it all. The walk. How they fed the pigeons. How still felt the air. It was a quick get away from the busy New York with all it’s noise and people. It was a perfect day.

Another picture. When his hair started to burn, she could have sworn that the smell of his cologne filled the room. Heavy, musky. Exactly the same smell she used to wake up to. 

Another...

The doorbell rang, interrupting the process. No one was supposed to come today, and even though she didn’t want to, Faye had to answer.

Instead one by one, all the pictures were thrown in the fireplace. Dozens of still faces were collectively screaming in agony.

* * *

As the first light rays were kissing the horizon, Small Heath was already alive. People were up. Ready for another day of work. Nothing more, nothing less in the never ending circle Birmingham was stuck in.

He passed by many faces on his way. Some familiar. Some not. And nobody recognized him. Maybe because he was in a hurry as was everyone else. Or maybe it was the fact that for once his suit was left behind. No expensive shirts and shiny shoes.

In the place he was going to these things were a hindrance. He had to be one of the many. An invisible nobody.

This was his only free day of the week, and he chose to spend it that way. Truly nothing he originally planned to do. But that day Polly was busy and wasn’t supposed to be at home till late that night. He would have avoided all the questions and unwanted curiosity.

When he reached the edge of town, Michael nudged the horse to go faster. The road was long and he definitely didn’t want to travel at noon, when the sun was high and relentless.

He knew what to expect and yet as the time passed, Michael grew more and more fascinated by the ever changing landscape around him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all countless of times. The fields never changed. This time of the year, they were all the same shade of green. The shade of hope. Before they got burned by the summer sun.

Before they matured. Long before harvest season.

Very rarely he needed to be alone. Michael had grown to need people. To keep him company. To distract him. However much he enjoyed his solitude in the office, he always longed for the moment he returned home. Pol on the sofa drinking tea, however late at night it was. Despite the countless time Michael had told her not to wait for him. She never listened.

And even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was grateful. Polly needed her son, and Michael needed not to be alone with himself.

But not now. This thing he needed to do alone. Without someone holding his hand or guiding him. He needed this. He missed this. All of this. The horse, the fields. The freedom that came with them. He used to be ashamed. Of his upbringing. Of the simple life he used to have. Of the person he was. So Michael buried himself alive. Deep down into the ground. And he lied there. And waited. And nothing happened. Michael hadn’t gotten on a horse for over a year. He hadn’t put on a simple linen shirt in even longer. He even tried to change his habits. But however bad he wanted, it never worked out. He still got up at five in the morning.

Michael was so afraid that if he did any of the things he used to do, he would see the person he used to be in the mirror, or even worse that everyone would see him. He tried his best to forget the past.

But the past didn’t forget him. The fields were calling for him. All the time. He pretended not to hear.

But finally the fields called, and he answered.

* * *

“Ada! What are you doing here?” Faye hugged tightly the woman standing on the porch. “Come on in!”

The small entryway in which Ada stepped in was filled with empty pots and flowers. Some already repotted, some left for a later date.

“Do you want tea?”

“Yes, please” Ada looked anxious and tired. Exactly the same way she looked a few years ago, when Karl was little and he used to cry all night. A restless baby and a busy husband were surely hard to manage. Now the restless baby had become a kid, and the loving husband was long ago buried in the ground.

“Kitchen or living room?” Faye was already on the way to the kitchen.

“Can we drink it outside? It’s kind of hot in here.”

Of course it was, outside it was a bit over 20 degrees and here the fireplace was burning. ‘Kind of hot’ was an understatement. Faye was quick to put the kettle on the stove while Ada was wandering through the first floor. This was the first time she was seeing the house in an almost finished state. And definitely a lot had changed since she first walked through those rooms.

Everything felt lively. Carefully picked up, but not necessarily matching. All sorts of mixed up wood colors and fabrics.

Ada definitely saw the fire and yet she was tactful enough not to comment on it. Maybe the pictures had already burned down into ashes or maybe Ada just didn’t see them. Either way it didn’t matter.

“I love what you’ve done with the place”

“I do too” Faye answered while pouring the tea into the cups “Now that I’ve warmed up to this place, it is starting to feel like home”

A half lie. She still hadn’t fully warmed up to the house. It still wasn’t a home. Now Faye was trying to fill up what felt missing with stuff. Now those stuff were flowers. Before that were books and little decorations. Who knew what she was going to search for the following week?

She passed the tea cup to Ada. Exactly two teaspoons of sugar, no milk. Just how Ada liked it. Out the backdoor whey went. The sun was high and the air so still that it almost felt like summer.

“So what brings you here?”

“I was around, so I thought I can pass by”

“How’s Tommy?”

Ada gave Faye such a look that the answer was obvious “He put away all the pictures of Grace. But he doesn’t leave the house for nights on end anymore, so I guess it’s better...”

The tea was still hot. The faint smell of mint coming out of her cup. This wasn’t Faye’s favourite, but it was the only thing she currently had growing in her backyard. She still hadn’t started working on it. Some of the glass on the small greenhouse was broken. The grass was overgrown at places.

And there they both were. Sitting on the stairs, in a little green heaven. Illuminated by the sun.

“You’re really staying here longterm aren’t you?” Ada continued after a brief pause.

“If I wasn’t, would I have told you to buy me a house?” No answer followed “Ada, what’s wrong?”

“Tommy asked me to go to Boston and take your place there”

Faye stopped fidgeting the tiny spoon for a second. That was the reason Ada looked unnerved? Being honest she expected something much worse. That was a happy news, and yet she looked miserable “And you don’t want to go?”

“I don’t know if I want to go... Don’t you want to return there? I...”

“Ada, look at me! I have no plans to return there. My place is here. New York was great, but it wasn’t my place”

“But why? You sounded happy in those letters”

Faye sighed, how she was supposed to explain anything, when she had to keep the business with the Russians a secret. How could she describe how distressed Tommy sounded when he called her at four in the morning. How little they were in the grand scheme of international politics and behind the scenes games.

“Business here was always a priority and you know it. I can’t tell more.”

The tea was long forgotten.

“So Tommy said the word, and you fucking followed?”

“Ada, look around you. Grace is dead. Shit is fucking dangerous. Tommy said he needed help. It was my decision to come back, not his. I made my choice”

Tommy needed help. But he didn’t know what help. The first plan was long scratched and forgotten. Ever since he found out who the traitor was, shit changed. Ever since Grace died, he wasn’t able to think straight. A second plan hasn’t been fully formed, and Faye was just standing by. Waiting for another order.

But none of this Ada had to know, not with her previous history with the communists. “The pay is good. It’s safe. Michael cleaned up the records, now everything there is legal work. I know people there, who can help you. I will tell you the names and the addresses of the connections.”

"Do you think this is the right choice?”

“What future do you want Karl to have? Do you want this life for your child?”

* * *

It was two in the afternoon when he reached the outskirts of the village. The small cottages were coming closer and closer, until he was able to see a human figure not that far away from him.

Michael got off his horse. He didn’t want to go any closer. As he didn’t want to return home. Maybe another time. Maybe next time. If even there was a next time.

What did his little brother do? Did he follow his steps? Was he trying to be a good kid? George was supposed to turn 13 this summer. He was almost a man. Almost able to make his own decisions. Would he choose to stay at the farm? Or would he escape was quick as Michael did? Would he break the Mrs. Johnson’s heart?

Right now standing there a bit over 100 meters away from the first house was enough for Michael. Enough to see that everything was still the same. The washed up color of the roof tiles. The tiny well kept garden. The smoke coming out of the chimney.

Life there was truly stuck in time. He was sure that the same view would await him if he returned tomorrow. Or if he had decided to stay. This there as his future. An old man cutting up weeds. A quiet life that was either going to break him or get him to the edge of madness.

And that wasn’t even the house he grew up in. That was just a neighbor, and yet the memories flooded up his head. If he wasn’t mistaken this house belonged to the Smith family.

An older couple, who always used to give him apples, because he was such a sweet boy. But in reality it was because he was one of the few kids that actively talked with them. He always listened to their stories, even if he had heard them times before.

The Smiths were a lonely couple, who were grateful whenever someone talked to them for longer than five minutes. And since Michael did exactly that soon he became a guest at their house every Wednesday night. After he helped them tend the garden.

Who helped them now? Were they left to do everything on their own? Mr. Smith was over 80 now... All of this was hard work for someone this old.

Michael wasn’t sure when his feet started moving nor when he reached the old fence. If he had changed so much, why didn’t he just return home and see his previous family. Why did he felt the need to stare from a far like a thief marking up a house?

“Good day, Mr. Smith, do you remember me?” his voice was weak, his throat sore. He hadn’t felt this way since the day he went up to look for Polly. Since he had to ask if she knew his mother.

The man stared at Michael’s face. No emotion showed. Had he forgotten about him? It had been more than two years, maybe his age was finally getting to him. For a second Michael regretted ever coming there. It was all a mistake a terrible fucking mistake.

“Henry! Henry Johnson! Liza, come here! Henry is here” Wobbling slowly the old man came to open the gate. “Come in son!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, I know. But I took a little break from this story and just my life got immensely busier than it was 3 months ago when I started writing this, so now I've come to the realization that my uploading schedule will have to change. Instead of once every 2 weeks, the updates will now be once every 3/4 weeks. 
> 
> Also I planned to upload this somewhere at the end of the week, but the mustache/prison pic that was leaked yesterday made me go fucking feral and actually finish the chapter and edit it in one day, so here's that. Much love!


	7. This Is A Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does it feel to take a life?

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE I SAID I’M COMING!“ Faye shouted, storming down the stair, but the frantic knocking on the door didn’t stop. It only grew louder and more persistent “IF YOU KNOCK ON THE BLOODY DOOR ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR TO GOD…” She didn’t get to finish that sentence. The words hung in the air, as she opened the door and saw him. Almost a month had passed since she last spoke to Michael. Since she dumped all those documents in his office.

Since then they had seen each other in family meetings and during the frequent hospital visits to Tommy. But there hadn’t been spoken a single word, that wasn’t necessary wasn’t. If it was up to Faye, she wouldn’t have said a thing. But communication was needed in order for the plan to go further. The stakes were too high to be sacrificed because of her ego.

A second passed. Then another one. And Michael wasn’t saying anything. Just standing there, looking at her.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for this.” 

Faye swung the door in the attempt to close it, but just wasn’t fast enough. A polished black shoe interrupted her action. “Wait, we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t. Not right now” the two of them were staring at each other through the small crack of the almost closed door. Michael’s face centimeters away from Faye’s. Nearly touching, but so far apart at the same time.

“Please” he whispered. If they weren’t so close, Faye was sure she wouldn’t hear him. “I need to know what it feels like to take a life...”

“Why?”

“I just need to know”

The pressure against the door lessened. Her hand moved away from the handle. This wasn’t a conversation the two were supposed to have outside. This wasn’t a conversation the two were supposed to have at all. 

Michael wasn’t used to apologizing and to turn his back on his pride cost him more than he was would to admit. This wasn’t an apology. The time to be sorry hadn’t come yet.

“Who do you plan to kill?” Faye wasted no time, the second the door behind Michael was closed, she started asking all those questions that were plaguing her mind.

“A bad man. Very bad man”

The two of them reached the living room, where the fire had almost burnt out. The dying red flames being the only source of light in the whole room. Without an invitation Michael picked another log and threw it in the fireplace. He needed warmth and light.

“So you think that will bring justice?” She didn’t comment on his actions. He was already familiar with the place, so setting boundaries now was pretty pointless.

“No. Just revenge.” Michael finally turned and faced Faye and in that moment he realized that Faye didn’t look her usual self. Her normal work clothes were replaced by a simple long linen dress. Her hair was messy and wasn’t put up or covered in any way, which happened rarely. But the thing that really caught his eye was her face. It was puffy and her eyes were red and irritated “Did I interrupt something? Were you asleep?”

“Actually yes. It was a long day. Now, please get to the point and tell me who are you planning to kill?”

“The priest that got Tommy in the hospital”

“Why?”

“You’re better off not knowing”

How many times was she going to to ask the same fucking question, without getting an answer? Of course Michael was asking for help, without telling why he needed the help. Of course he wasn’t ready to meet her halfway. He wanted to know, needed to know and had to know. And that was it.

But why ask her? Why her when he could have asked any of his cousins? Because they would laugh in his face telling him not to worry his little head with murder? Because if they know, eventually Polly would know as well? Because of thousands of different reasons? Whatever the reason was, Faye didn’t ask, as that was going to remain another unanswered why question.

Faye sat on the sofa. At least she had enough manners to invite him to sit with her. “So, what do you want to know?”

“How it feels when you pull the trigger and how do you live afterwards?” Michael made a big pause in between these last words.

Afterwards... What came after the murder? For years the historians differentiated the eras with the birth of Christ. Before him, and after. But in this family time moved differently. The only thing truly separating time was the murder.

The first one and the last one.

“If you’ve come here to hear a universal solution to the guilt and pain you’ll suffer, you’re not getting it. Every life taken is different.”

Before actually sitting down, Michael opened for the glass cupboard placed under the window, taking a bottle. For a second Faye thought that was going to drink straight from the bottle, but instead he reached for the forgotten cup on the coffee table. The last remaining drops of tea were quickly gone and replaced with whiskey. “Tell me about them, all of them”

Faye sighed, after weeks of silence, this was their first conversation. Death and guilt. The exact reason they stopped talking. He blamed her for taking all those lives and yet he came to seek help from her. Ironic, but not surprising.

“The first ones - those poor souls in France, they were different. For each men we put a bullet in, we had a few more seconds to live. Trading life and death. Stealing time...”

“Who was your first kill?” Michael interrupted, when he didn’t get the answer he wanted to hear.

“I don’t know. I doubt I’ll ever know. It was dark. The med tents were being attacked...”

Suddenly her lungs were full of smoke again, her legs knees deep into mud. That god awful sound of bombs exploding in the distance echoed. But now those crawling towards her weren’t men, no, they were spawns of hell, whose only job was to torment her.

“The next morning we saw the aftermath - dozens of bodies lying in every direction... And that was just the beginning, those last few months were hell.”

“If it was so bad, why did you continue? Why didn’t you start clear after the end of the war?” Staring right at her, Michael’s eyes seeking the most important questions. _Why are you here? Why didn’t you stop if you hated yourself so much?_

“Has no one told you how I became a blinder?” Faye waited a few seconds, but after no answer followed she continued “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, you know.”

Before continuing Faye took the cup out of Michael’s hands, finishing up the whiskey. “When I came here, I was different. Just a simple woman, living a simple life. My colleagues at the hospital were kind, I had no intention to get my hands dirty.”

And that was the truth. Back then Faye had no intention to touch a gun again, even though her revolver was always in the upper right drawer of her desk. Always there just in case.

“One night there were gunshots outside my home. When I went out to check, I found someone, lying on the pavement in the middle of the street. And I took him in. I couldn’t just let him die there. It wasn’t right... He had lost so much blood that he was unconscious for three days”

“Arthur?”

Faye nodded. Arthur was the first blinder she ever met. Even though she knew to stay away from these men, she had to take him in. Dying on the side of the road in the middle of the night was a death she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Like an animal hit by a car.

That was one of those strange moments in life that just don’t feel real. Knocking on the door of the gambling house, asking to see Thomas. How she stood there anxiously, telling the man how his older brother was in her house. In a state between life and death. How she stabilized him, but he had to stay with her for a little linger, because she was afraid he wouldn’t make the trip to the hospital alive.

And Tommy was just listening to her, nodding. The next morning, he came to her house with a thousand pounds in his pocket. For her troubles, he said.

But he never made it clear for what troubles he gave her those money. And looking back on that day, Faye was starting to think that those money were an upfront payment for all the troubles he and his family brought into her life.

“I took care of him for a few months. He made me see your family human, and not the vengeful demons some people presented them as. And maybe that was my mistake.”

Strangely enough Faye’s life moved in circles. She escaped the farm up North just to return there later. Same thing happened with Birmingham. She helped a blinder twice. The first time it led to her down a road she never imagined taking. And now it seemed that the second time was leading in the same direction. With just one difference - this time it wasn’t her hands that were getting bloody.

“Before I knew I was working for them, a personal doctor. Then I started getting more and move involved. One thing led to another...” Faye stopped herself, what happened next wasn’t important. Michael wasn’t interested in the journey, but the place where it led to.

“What I am trying to say is that blood is dirty. It’s one thing to kill to protect yourself an completely other to kill for revenge.” Faye pushed herself from the couch. Suddenly she felt cold. So fucking cold. “That blood will always be there, no matter how much you repent. Better get used to it”

“Repent? You think I will repent? That word lost it’s meaning, before it gained one.” Michael’s words sounded hollow. For a second Faye was glad she had her back turned on him. She was scared of what she’s see if she looked.

Hollow, lifeless eyes devoid of any emotion or a face filled with vengeance? Which was worse? To kill with a heart full of hatred? Or to kill while empty? Both things would rip his soul apart. Both would infect his heart. But only one would kill the person he was.

“Then beware. You’re heading towards the same part of Hell as I am”

The logs were cracking and breaking inside the fireplace. Turning into ashes.

“Burning alone has never been fun anyway”

No words were exchanged afterwards. Just the heavy silence taking over them. Until Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He got up. Suddenly, he feeling suffocated by everything. The past. The future. The unsaid.

“Thank you.” Michael took his coat and headed towards the door. His pace was fast, almost running. He couldn’t look Faye in the eyes. “This is more than I deserve..”

“Wait!” one last question remained unanswered “Have you named the bullet?”

“What?”

“Have you written the name of the bullet? Your cousins do it, I’ve seen some men in the war do it. Sometimes they even wrote their own names. I... I don’t know, it just makes things personal”

“It already is personal.” Michael reached for his pocket, but stopped halfway. Something was weighting in there, and Faye knew exactly what it was “Tommy gave me the bullet he didn’t use”

And with that Michael left. With some answers, but at the same time with more questions that he ever thought he had. Now painfully aware how heavy the little bullet in his pocket actually was.

_Sometimes they even wrote their own names..._

The men usually wrote their own names. One last bullet. Reserved for just one occasion. Of course the bullet that was supposed to blow their brains out had to be a special one.

Almost everyone had such a bullet. Even Faye. But when most of the men got rid of the bullets, she kept hers. Hidden next to the last pound that left from her military paycheck.

Awaiting for the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, maybe the next chapter will be a bit delayed, so I'm putting the warning in advance! Take care


End file.
